


Cabinet of Natural Curiosities

by Argyle



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Double Drabble, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing XMFC drabble collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Base Pairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, G -- firstclass100 hidden challenge

There is elegance in simplicity. At the core of life sits ATGC, which is this: every part of a being, be it a mushroom or a leopard or a man. Or a mutant.

There is perfection in symmetry. One molecule joins another. Out of infinite possibilities, there are these two, and those that pair and stack by the multitude around them.

Structure forms substance. A story completes before it begins.

Charles sees the man in the water, senses power and pain. He knows he must know him.

And when he does: the deeper he goes, the more there is written.


	2. Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank/Raven, G -- firstclass100 heat challenge

Sleep never came easy -- Hank couldn't quiet his mind if he wanted, and that and an uncomfortable bed meant he spent most nights in the hangar. And recently, the rec room.

Gaining pinball mastery took time. Though even after, he didn't expect accolades. "It's only physics."

"Could you... demonstrate?" Raven asked.

She leaned into the machine. Hank stood behind her, wiped his hands on his thighs, then guided one of Raven's to the plunger. "Pull back and send the ball into orbit."

Raven nodded. Her body was so warm.

Hank couldn't help but help her.


	3. Girl in the War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma, Erik (PG) - firstclass100 vision challenge

Emma's a survivor. Life goes on, bright and hard as her own diamond knuckles. She knows what she's doing. And long ago, she realized it sometimes takes employment to get what she wants.

Which is this: control.

Sebastian was decadent, overfond of Cuvée Belle Epoque, and strung out on his own power. You didn't have to be a telepath to see he was out of his mind. But a daily glance through his surface thoughts meant fair warning if he had an appetite for her head, or just mortar shell.

Emma never paid much attention when Sebastian talked about Erik. She already knew enough -- Erik was a beast of Sebastian's design, and would only be sated by his maker's blood. Justified, sure. When Erik took him down, she didn't care. Sebastian had left her to rot in a CIA holding cell. That it was Erik who got her out seemed downright poetic.

Well, except for this: "You'll need a change of uniform, Miss Frost. One does not go into battle wearing underclothes."

//We can't all wear pajamas, dipshit,// she sends, knowing he can't hear her.

Erik's still a beast. He has the sense to keep his company close, and his mind closer. But he has his weaknesses. Everyone does.

Emma's good at finding them.


	4. Concurrency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, PG -- firstclass100 **travel** challenge

While they were stopped for lunch at a Tucumcari roadhouse, Charles scanned the postcard rack. Only the gaudiest image would do, which that time turned out to be a plump, grinning jackalope sat behind the wheel of a pink T-Bird. He dropped a nickle into the pay jar and returned to their booth -- Erik was off making a phone call, so Charles took a moment to address the card, and then:

 _Dearest Raven: As you've undoubtedly realized, our expedition's proven a great success. Life on the road is exciting! There's always some new delight waiting round the bend._

Charles paused, tapped his pen on the tabletop, let out a long breath. It was true: he'd uncovered more than he thought possible. And not just in the mutants they sought. Sometime after setting out, gradually and without warning, there developed a tightness in Charles' chest. He found his gaze drawn to certain unlikely places, lips and jaw and throat and hands -- Erik's, all -- whenever his guard fell.

Charles promised not to enter Erik's mind, and cataloging physical signals took time, but he was a patient man. When Erik's gaze finally drew up to meet him, _see_ him, Charles would be ready.


	5. Mind and Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles & Raven, PG -- firstclass100 change challenge

"What do you think?" Raven asked the next morning.

Funny, but it seemed like longer: after fixing a spread of sandwiches and tea, Charles led Raven upstairs, and then proceeded to keep her awake with questions and supposes -- he wanted to know everything. Raven laughed around a yawn and assured him they'd have all the time in the world.

Charles knew she was right. But even after she fell asleep (he gave her his bed), he sat up, marveled at the blue of her skin, the red of her hair. He saw the truth of their kinship. And he felt the steady, slow beat of _not alone_ like rain on a pond, a thrum in his mind, until his whole body shook with it, until the whole of him threatened to fly apart in _at last_.

Raven was thinking this: //What an odd sort of boy. You don't _always_ sleep sitting up, do you?//

And she was saying this: "Well?"

Blond, slightly round in the face, with pink bowed lips a bit like Charles' own. Still a little taller than him. Yes, so that was Raven too.

"Mother takes her coffee in the conservatory," said Charles. "Let's meet her."


	6. Maketh the Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, PG -- firstclass100 change challenge

"Sorry," says Charles, proffering the shirt and trousers he pillaged from the ship's storage bay. "These are the best I could find. Apparently the Coast Guard hasn't quite caught up with Savile Row."

Erik shakes his head. "If they're dry, they'll do."

"But you do have--"

"Other clothes? Yes. At my hotel."

Without preamble, Erik wrenches his belt off, then works his fingers at the shirtwaist of his wetsuit and lifts it up and over until it slips off his arms inside-out with a soggy pop. His tanned, well-toned chest is still damp, and here and there droplets cling to old scars. But the movement has mussed his towel-dried hair, making him appear younger than he is. Charles can't stifle the pure, delighted shiver that works its way down his spine, the sense of _possibility_ undimmed by the ever-present hum of _purpose_ in the other man.

Erik's hands settle back at his hips. He pauses. Then he catches Charles' eye.

A little too much purpose, maybe.

"Sorry," Charles says again, rather more sincerely than he means. "I'll-- Um, I'll meet you in the mess hall in ten minutes. I think we could both do with a cup of tea."


	7. Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, PG -- firstclass100 discovery challenge

Erik's seen them before: two guards sat before a chess board in the empty mess hall, both of them sloppy players. Tonight they've abandoned the game midway through. More pieces than not stand aside, taken.

It's a simple pleasure to reset the thing. Erik aligns the ranks and then slides into a chair, leans forward on his elbows and clasps his hands before him, and considers how to begin things.

And then: "Hello, Erik." It's Charles, sounding faintly surprised, and though Erik knows Charles probably sensed Erik's location half a building away, the gentle, pleased curl to his mouth seems genuine enough. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Erik should excuse himself right there. He should tell Charles to bugger off: there have existed long stretches in Erik's life where solitude came as naturally as breathing. But in a flash, he realizes that this needn't be one of them. After a long moment, he says, "Not really."

"Good," says Charles. He takes the opposite seat: White. "Do you normally play alone?"

"When I lack a suitable opponent."

"And when you have one?"

"Just make your move, Charles."

Charles' smile widens. "I thought you'd never ask."

Erik checks him, barely, and despite himself he agrees to a rematch. When Charles wins that one, it's the best of three. Then three becomes five, and before long it's a nightly occurrence. Something to look forward to; something between them.

Charles' opening is almost always the same. But it doesn't predict what's to come next.


	8. Transmission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles & Raven, G -- firstclass100 distraction challenge

"Charles? Charles, your thing's on."

"Hmm?"

"The one where the alien signal tells that guy to build a computer. You know."

"I'm sorry, Raven, but I'm sure I don't."

"The one where--"

"And I've another eighty-five pages to get through tonight."

Raven leans round the doorway of Charles' study. She smiles. "Like they'd know you didn't read it."

"This isn't the time," says Charles, "to start an ethical debate. You must accept that there are certain times I must 'go without.'"

"Trust my brother to be a television celibate."

Now, that's-- that's not at all what Charles meant. He sucks in a breath. There's no way he'll let Raven talk him into shirking his studies again. And then: "He builds a computer, you say?"


	9. Must Have Been a Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mystique, Charles, Erik, G -- firstclass100 senses challenge

No matter what body Mystique wore, coffee tasted the same.

The damp, weedy scent of Central Park was only ever _this_ any evening she went walking.

And nor could people really change.

Charles' face, caught half-smiling, looked like it always did. He took Erik's pawn. Erik said something that made Charles laugh almost to the point of shaking. Mystique felt mirth ripple off him; her mind caught it like water in tidal pools.

She'd known. Charles was charmed. Things had a way of returning to him in time.

But when he met her eye over Erik's shoulder, she kept walking.


	10. Pace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank, G -- firstclass100 morning after challenge

They bring the Professor home well after dark. From a second floor window, Hank takes in the slow, creaking wheels of the hospital-issued chair. Then he meets the Professor's eye, briefly but focused.

Hank thinks: _I'll do what I can._

Later, Moira whispers, "The trip has left him tired. Can you wait until morning?"

Sean and Alex share a look, unsure.

And yet Hank doesn't mind: he's never been good at standing over bedsides. Action's the only thing worth a damn. So he sets to work on something new. Something light and strong and maneuverable, and utterly devoid of metal.


	11. Externals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, PG-13

Erik hated the place. It was too solid. Overly-formed. Even if the floors didn't creak, or the doors didn't groan -- even if the grounds didn't leave his shoes muddy, the better to stain some Xavier heirloom Persian -- he had scarcely ever felt so present. If not welcome, certainly _known_.

He would know in return. That first afternoon, he dismantled the layout, committing corridors to memory. He picked a bedroom for its location: second floor, peripheral and near the balustrade, which made it easy to imagine an escape route.

But oh, his suitcase waited for him there, sat beneath the window on a luggage rack, before he ever set foot inside. And then, Charles was there too, a damnable half-smile curling his mouth, as if he understood what he was playing at, as if he had any inkling.

Erik quaked; enveloped him, coaxed that mouth red and swollen; ripped him apart.


	12. Internals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, R

Darkness brought clarity. Content that the house had settled for the night, Charles' mind took a slow sojourn, traced events of the day: waking with Erik. Sharing a meal with him. Training with him. And after, Erik's mouth on Charles' cock, Erik's throat humming cacophony as Charles came, undone.

They were still tangled. Held. Charles could make out the shape of Erik's profile, and the slope of his shoulder, neck, and throat. Erik's breath scarcely moved him. His features were placid.

But his thoughts trembled, swelled and shook, so close.

Charles thought: I cannot change him. And knew: I must.


	13. Formlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, Raven, PG -- firstclass100 history challenge

"Where did you come from?" Charles asked around the rim of his cocoa mug. (He'd been the one to make it, but he was glad to: it gave him something to do with his hands while Raven helped put ham and cheese together for the sandwiches.)

Raven shrugged. "I don't really know. Not exactly."

"It's somewhere far away, then?"

"Yes."

"And what of your parents? D'you have any brothers and sisters?"

"I don't think so."

"You needn't be so evasive," Charles chided. But he understood: she'd only just met him. And then he understood: she really didn't _know_. "Oh, Raven. Believe me: I can help you remember everything. We can work at it together."

Raven's brow knit, faintly puzzled. Then she said, "Maybe. Maybe tomorrow."


	14. Coercion of the Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles/Erik, PG -- firstclass100 amnesty 1/morning after challenge

"Color me impressed," Charles chirped, looking about. From the mounted fixtures to the bed-frame, desk, and chair, and up to the duct and the dripping, exposed pipe dangling halfway through the wall plaster, there wasn't a bit of metal in the room that hadn't been touched.

Or distorted, crushed and curled.

"I don't care much for government property," Erik yawned, not bothering to raise his head from his pillow. The sheet barely covered him: rather distracting.

Charles swallowed. "No. So I've taken the liberty of creating a _general_ perception that there was some localized seismic activity last night. Most unusual."


	15. Bump in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean & Alex, PG -- firstclass100 haunt challenge

"I'm telling you," Sean hisses, pointing ceilingward, "this place is haunted!"

Alex shakes his head. "Just because it's big and old? That's nothing. Face it, Sean, you're just a giant wuss."

And then there's a creak, like every bit of framing in the place has decided to take up the Watusi. The creak is followed by a low groan: slow, aged pipes protesting the presence of water and whatever else.

Quite slowly, the set of suits of armor that stand sentry in the hall shake in their metal boots.

Sean's jaw drops. "I'm telling the Professor!" But before he can make it to the study, Alex holds him still.

"Better wait 'til after their chess game. He was fuming the last time I barged in."


End file.
